


A Certain Degree of Surrender

by DratTheRat



Category: Dark Tower - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, No Actual Tentacles, Porn With Plot, Romance?, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, supernatural kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 14:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DratTheRat/pseuds/DratTheRat
Summary: What was it that killed the proverbial cat?  Jamie De Curry is out of his depth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This story is pornographic and indulgent and contains a kinky threesome that might make some people (including Jamie, who ultimately chooses to participate) uncomfortable. The best (worst?) thing about _Dark Tower_ fic: this nonsense is pretty much canon complaint. 
> 
> For a bit more of a plot preview, skip to the note/excuse/apology at the end of the work.

Jamie had learned to listen carefully for the telltale little wet click and short intake of breath. These moments always came when Cuthbert Allgood lay in bed and Alain Johns was gone. It was the only sound he ever made during the process, and it only happened if he was asleep when it began. It was the sound of his mouth opening in an aborted gasp as he awoke. Next, he would lie more still than even in sleep until it was over, and then, sometimes, he would knock on the lower bunk and give report to Roland. Most of the time, he would roll over and go back to sleep. Jamie wondered whether Roland noticed when it happened if Cuthbert gave him no report - whether he could sleep through that little, wet gasp. Jamie rarely did, and this time Roland was away.

Cuthbert’s stillness ended, and he stretched and made to turn onto his side to face the wall.

“Anything I ought to know?” Jamie asked.

Cuthbert paused, mid turn, and flopped onto his other side instead so he faced Jamie, lying across from him on the other top bunk. The novice gunslinger bunkhouse was underground, and the only windows were tiny, very high. They let in a small amount of moonlight, and it caught on the whites of his eyes. “Nothing,” he said. “Is it because I stretched and turned?”

“No. We are all restless sleepers.”

“Save Alain,” Cuthbert put in.

“Indeed.” Jamie took a deep breath. He had pressed Cuthbert on his almost-secret. It was only fair for him to give a secret in return. “You open your mouth and start to gasp. If you are asleep, you do it every time he touches you.”

Cuthbert watched him silently in the darkness. Outside, a nightjar called.

“I will curb that,” he promised finally.

“I wish you luck.” It would be difficult to halt such a reaction while asleep, but Jamie doubted that it was impossible. Cuthbert was much more disciplined than his easy going manner might suggest. It was one of the first things Jamie had learned after he earned his guns and moved his quarters here. 

The dark shadows shifted on Cuthbert’s face, and Jamie guessed that he was smirking. “I don’t believe you, but ‘tis very proper of you to say so. I do appreciate the gesture, belated as it is.” Jamie had slept across from Cuthbert for two years.

“I cry your pardon,” Jamie stammered. Although he was passing friendly with all three of his ka-mates, who had proven themselves gunslingers, he was not part of their ka-tet. He was a solitary fellow, which suited him well enough, but bunking with his peers was difficult, and speaking to them even more so. They were such closely knit companions, bound together by both love and fate.

Cuthbert ignored his apology. “I think you liked it, hearing me, knowing what I was up to. Now, why might that be?”

“I cry your pardon,” Jamie repeated. “I am not one of you.”

Cuthbert’s dark irises rolled around his moon-white eyes. “Come now, tell me what it is you like.”

Jamie dodged the question with a question of his own. “How do you do it?”

“I don’t do anything,” Cuthbert likewise evaded.

“Alain does not touch Roland.”

“Ah. The last thing Roland needs is a head cluttered up with his ka-tet’s emotions.”

Jamie frowned. “Your head does not seem cluttered. You always sleep more soundly, after.”

Cuthbert chuckled softly. “My, my, you have been paying attention.”

“I cry your pardon,” Jamie said again.

Cuthbert sat up. He folded his legs under his body and leaned forward, holding onto the edges of his bunk. “Why?” he asked again.

“I am out of my depth.” It was an appropriate metaphor. Jamie had a vivid memory of wading out too deep during a swimming lesson as a boy. Helpless, he had slipped under, unable to surface until his teacher pulled him from the stream. The feeling closing in on him right now was just the same.

“That’s probably true.” But Cuthbert seemed to be smiling, and, from his wide, earnest eyes, Jamie supposed that it might be his kind, sweet smile and not that awful, knowing smirk. “It requires a certain degree of surrender, which Roland would never allow,” he confessed.

Jamie sat up to match. “And Alain?” he whispered.

“Alain’s situation is different.”

“How different?”

“Alain is my very dear friend,” Cuthbert said. His smile was gone.

“Of course. You are ka-tet.”

“We are ka-tet, and we are - we have always been - friends.”

“Of course,” Jamie repeated.

“Are you my friend, Jamie De Curry?”

“I would like to be,” Jamie heard himself whisper, and he found that it was true. For the first time in his life, he longed for a connection. Perhaps this hidden longing could explain his fascination with Cuthbert’s reaction to Alain’s long distance touch.

Cuthbert nodded. “Then we are friends.”

Jamie gasped. He was about to ask if it was really as easy as that when Cuthbert spoke again.

“Alain is utterly alien. I cannot fathom what it costs him to place thoughts inside my mind or whether it costs him at all. We are _friends_ ,” he emphasized the word, “but we are no longer boys. I am a man, and he is something else.”

“And Roland?”

“Roland is my leader.”

Jamie leaned further forward across the gap between the beds. “Is it difficult? The surrender?”

Cuthbert’s lips twitched, and this time it was that irritating smirk. Jamie could see it clearly now that their faces were closer together. “Speculate.”

This was a test. If he passed, would he become a part of their ka-tet? He had trained with them, faced real enemies with each gunslinger individually and as a group. Did Cuthbert have the power to bring Jamie into Roland’s fold? Was that something he wanted? Perhaps that was the true goal of the test.

Jamie took a deep breath. “I think, for you, it is cathartic. What you give up to follow Roland, maybe not, but Alain . . . Alain’s alien presence in your head . . . it helps you sleep.”

“Jamie,” Cuthbert whispered, “have you ever been fucked?”

Jamie gasped. The hard ‘k’ sound reminded him so much of Cuthbert’s mouth opening in his sleep. “You mean, has a . . . man . . . in my . . .”

“I understand that to mean ‘no.’ What if I wanted to?”

Jamie shook his head. “That is beyond . . . I cannot speculate.”

Cuthbert tilted his head slightly to the side and squinted as if he were attempting to see better in the dark. “I’m coming over there,” he decided.

As Jamie watched, he hoisted himself off of his bed and climbed the ladder up to Jamie’s bunk. Jamie scooted back to give him room, and Cuthbert joined him on the little mattress suspended in the dark.

Cuthbert did not stop moving. Once he was on Jamie’s bed, he crawled over to Jamie and leaned over him, trapping him between his hands on either side. He kept leaning down until Jamie stretched out so he was lying on his back with Cuthbert leaning over him. 

“What are you doing?” Jamie asked. His voice was shaking.

“Something for myself. Something to help you decide. How does this feel?”

“I . . .”

“You surrendered.”

Jamie supposed he had, in his surprise. “I am confused.”

“Are you aroused?” He lowered his body, and his hard cock pressed against Jamie’s own.

“You really want to fuck me?” Jamie asked.

“Don’t worry about that.” Cuthbert kissed him. 

Jamie had never kissed anyone. He had looked at girls, but the thought of talking to them was stifling. He had lain with women of ill repute, with whom he hardly had to speak, but they were not interested in kissing. Cuthbert’s kiss was wet and needy, and Jamie was overwhelmed. Without thinking, he buried his hands in the other young man’s hair and thrust up against the matching stiffness of his member. He felt an urge to take command and tried to roll them over on the high, narrow bunk. Cuthbert let him. He let him grab his shoulders and slip out from under him and flip him over into the exact same spot where Jamie had been lying. The bedposts slammed against the wall.

Jamie relished the feeling of the new position only for a moment. When he realized what he had done, he pulled back and sat up on his haunches. “I cry your pardon. I have failed the test.”

Strangely, Cuthbert seemed to crane his neck towards Jamie’s departing mouth for just a moment. “There is no test,” he said.

“There is always a test with you. If riddles had not been suspended due to war, you would win every year now Cort is out of running.”

“Say thankya.” He sounded pleased.

“I did not mean it as a compliment.”

“Oh no? Perhaps, then, you should not have said, ‘Cuthbert, I think you are the best in all of Gilead at our revered tradition.’” 

Jamie’s bed was closer to the window, and it was almost easy this time to see Cuthbert’s smirk. He wanted to edge back, away, and off of Cuthbert’s body, but the other gunslinger was almost as tall as Jamie was himself, and there was nowhere for him to go but off the bunk. This was his bunk; if anyone should leave, it should be Cuthbert.

He sighed. “You know that those were not my words. I do not wish to play games.”

Cuthbert rose up on his elbows. “You were the one asking difficult questions.”

“You are not incorrect. We bunk here in this room, but ka has thrown no lasting bond around us, and I overstepped my part. I should have told you long ago how your gasp gives away the moment of his touch and left it be at that. I cry your pardon if you were offended.”

“I hope that you are not about to start in on your father’s face. I am not easy to offend.”

“You did not invite me to take charge of . . .” Jamie was a loss to describe what had almost occurred between them.

Cuthbert laughed. Jamie could feel it in his thighs. 

“Nor did you invite me to come into your bed.”

Jamie shook his head. “I think you were proving a point.”

“Was I? It is very late, or very early, don’t you think?” He slid his legs through the space between Jamie’s so that he could sit up, cross legged, at the head of the bed.

“I would still like to be friends,” Jamie whispered.

Cuthbert smiled sweetly. “Yes, of course.” 

He leaned forward and captured Jamie’s lips again, this time gently, and Jamie responded as passively as he could manage without failing to respond at all. He wondered if Cuthbert did this with all of his friends, whether all three of them . . . fucked.

Cuthbert laughed very softly when he was done. He ran his knuckle along Jamie’s cheekbone. “I promise there was not a test.”

“If you say so.” 

Jamie watched him spring soundlessly off his bunk and hoist himself onto his own without using the ladder. He adjusted himself in his underpants and gave Jamie one last look before he turned to face the wall. Jamie thought maybe he was smiling, but it was too dim to be certain; he saw the whites of his eyes one last time, then nothing but shadows and darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

The Library of Gilead was the only one of its kind left in In-World, and Jamie was honored to have access. He had difficulty reading, but he did very well with numbers, so he typically spent his hours there with maps or old ledgers or scientific journals full of data about weather or the fluctuating animal populations or pictures of places he had never been or plants and creatures long extinct. 

Lately, though, he felt compelled to explore philosophy and magic, the legends of the Great Old Ones and their fantastic technologies. He had avoided these books before because they were dense texts, but, although he did not know what drew him to them now, he found them less obscure than he expected. There were maps here, too, and diagrams, and illustrations of the Old Ones and their cities as imagined by the ancient scholars. He pored over figures theorizing the position and the nature of the Dark Tower, its beams, and the twelve guardians. He thumbed through images of monsters that the Old Ones were thought to have unleashed, waiting to breach the Todash darkness.

On one page, he raised an eyebrow at a painting of a naked woman in the clutches of a being made of tentacles and wings. The picture was just short of explicit, but it implied sexual penetration, and it was difficult to tell from the expression on the tiny, painted woman’s face whether she was pleased or upset. He scoffed at the artist’s imagination but failed to turn the page. . . . _Utterly alien_ , Cuthbert’s voice echoed in his mind. _Have you ever been fucked?_

“Not exactly.”

The voice startled Jamie into a gasp, and he looked up. How could he have been so absorbed he had not noticed he was not alone? Alain Johns was hardly the softest walker of them, either.

“That,” Alain pointed at the nearly pornographic illustration, “is not exactly how he sees me, but it’s close.”

Jamie did not know what to say. Alain had never implied he could read his thoughts before, and Jamie had not felt him in his head. 

“Nor do I usually feel you.” Alain pulled out a chair across from Jamie’s and sat down. “I was looking for Cuthbert.”

“But you can touch him from anywhere.” Jamie had not expected this to be the first thing out of his own mouth.

“I was not pushing very hard. I felt ka swirling in the tower and assumed that it was him, for Roland has not yet returned, and Bert is fond of books. With a little effort I can tell . . . Cuthbert is with his father on the City Wall.”

Jamie nodded. “While you were away, we had a conversation in the night. We agreed to be friends. I wondered . . .” he shook his head. “There is no reason why ka-tet should draw me to you now.”

Alain laughed. It was a darker sound than Cuthbert’s, very knowing in a way that sent a trail of shivers into Jamie’s spine. His eyes drifted back towards the picture. 

“Even I understand very little of ka, monster that I am. Roland will be interested in your conclusions. Not that,” he pointed at the picture. “I wouldn’t show him that, if I were you. The Tower, though. If I were you, I might show _that_ to Cuthbert. I will not trouble him while he is with his father, but I can call him here for you if you would like.”

“He will come?”

“When he is finished with his other business. Why should he not? The two of you are friends.”

Alain’s bootheels echoed off the vaulted ceiling as he walked away.

Curious, Jamie waited. He marked the lurid illustration with his handkerchief and continued his studies, wondering what he might tell Roland about the Tower that he did not know already. The maps and diagrams in the book bore no resemblance to the modern maps with which Jamie was so familiar. Had the world changed, or were the maps in this text just imaginings like that ridiculous picture?

At length, he walked from his table to the supply cupboard for a slate and chalk stick, practicing a silence in his step. When he turned, Cuthbert was standing at his table with his hand on the handkerchief bookmark.

“Wait!” Jamie called. His voice echoed, and so did his heels on the hard stone floor.

It occurred to him, suddenly, that both Cuthbert and Alain were likely fooling with him now. Alain rarely moved quietly, say true, but he was a gunslinger, and Jamie had seen him do it in their training exercises. It could be that, in day to day affairs, he chose to avoid unnerving people any more than he already did. It could also be that he had approached Jamie in silence for the sole purpose of unnerving him. Jamie might not understand Cuthbert’s goals, but he did understand he played games for his own amusement. He did not understand Alain at all.

“No need to rush,” Cuthbert said softly, smiling. He sat down in Alain’s chair, leaned it back on two legs, and put his feet up on the table at a safe angle away from Jamie’s book. “I did not rush to get here.”

Jamie did not answer. He jotted several lines from memory that represented old Mid-World maps he’d seen and newer ones of In-World, then numbered a series of experimental, clock-like overlays - one centering on Gilead, another centering at the middle of his slate, and several more of varying sizes with imaginary centers off the board. When he was finished, the slate was a mass of looping curves, but Jamie could still trace which one was which. 

In one place where the contour of a river pouring out of a mountain range was bisected by an arc, it formed a looping nonsense pattern that exactly replicated the swirling flourish etched into the bottom of the heel of Cuthbert’s boot. These were his city boots, then. Jamie shook his head to think that Cuthbert not only owned but actually wore a pair that could so easily be tracked. He wondered whether he had drawn that pattern because he saw it in the corner of his eye.

“What does Roland think of those boots?” he asked to indicate that he was done.

Cuthbert’s laugh brightened the room. “He says that they are foppish. He teases me that I have forgotten my perfume. I like them. Imagine a bygone day when it was safe to wear them in the mud!”

Jamie did not think he could be that imaginative. The pictures in the ancient book seemed much more plausible than that. “I can appreciate the fantasy.”

“And the fine craftsmanship, I hope.” 

Cuthbert’s entire outfit was well tailored. Even if Jamie were as handsome, he would never be tempted to dress himself like that. He would rather avoid attention than attract it.

“Popinjay,” he decided, “is the word I would use. Not fop.”

Cuthbert grinned. “Thank God.” 

He pulled his feet off the table and let his chair come to rest on all four of its legs with an echoing bang. Leaning over the table, he snuck a look at Jamie’s slate.

“It’s . . .” Jamie began.

Cuthbert cut him off. “I can see what it is. Roland will be very pleased. Is this why I am here?” His playful mood was gone.

Jamie frowned. “Are you not pleased, as well?”

Cuthbert shrugged. He wore a smile, but it was not his sweet one, nor his smirk. “‘Tis not my favorite puzzle, but I do like such a challenge nonetheless. We can play at arcs and circles if you want. I’ll read the text and you can draw.” He drew a ribbon from his waistcoat pocket, marked Jamie’s place in the volume, and turned back a stack of pages to the one marked with the handkerchief.

Jamie watched his dark eyes widen in surprise and saw one corner of his lip quirk up.

“Should I withdraw my insult about riddling?”

Cuthbert grinned at him. His eyes sparkled. He seemed about to laugh. “Never. A compliment, once given, cannot be so easily revoked. I commend you on your misdirection.”

“It was an accident.”

Cuthbert was eager to recover his deductive reputation. “You were waiting to see if I would come.”

Jamie nodded. “I did not understand why I was here.”

“Until Alain found you. Does it feel better, to die for a purpose?” His eyes caught on the curl that looked like the design on his boot before they locked again on Jamie’s.

“Yes.”

“And this? He thought I would enjoy it? I’d call it figurative at best.” He looked down at the picture again, and, again, his lips quirked. “I have no secrets from Alain,” he added.

“You do enjoy it,” Jamie guessed. 

“Oh, I’m easy to please.”

Cuthbert stood up, rounded the end of the table, and reached for Jamie’s hand. 

“Come on.”

He pulled Jamie into the stacks and kissed him greedily, pressing him up against a pillar. Just when Jamie began to itch to spin them round, force Cuthbert up against it, Cuthbert slipped out of his grasp and sank to his knees. Deftly, he unfastened his trousers, drew out his hard cock, and sucked it into his mouth.

Jamie covered his own lips to stop a cry. Cuthbert was good at this. Not as good as the women of ill repute Jamie had been with, but neither was he inexperienced, and it was far more satisfying from a friend than from a stranger, even if he were not quite so technically proficient. Jamie closed his eyes and thought about the wet click of his gasp when Alain touched him from a distance in the night. He thought about Cuthbert asking him why he liked it and how he had refused to answer. He thought about the picture in the book. How would it be to have his cock in Cuthbert’s mouth while Alain thrust into his ass? He would be wrapped up in their limbs - whose would be whose? 

He opened his eyes and looked down at Cuthbert’s bobbing head. His eyes were closed, his mouth stretched tight. Jamie wondered whether he was brave enough to return the favor, whether he was willing to let Cuthbert fuck him after all. Cuthbert’s big, dark eyes opened and looked up at him. He came.

“I . . . thank you.” Jamie stammered.

“Oh, you are very welcome.” Cuthbert grinned and stood. He leaned against the pillar next to Jamie.

“For you?”

Cuthbert shrugged. “Maybe another time. Kiss me again, then let us take some dinner.”


	3. Chapter 3

When Roland finally returned, Jamie found that he was oddly eager to tell him his ideas about the Dark Tower. He had never been eager to speak to Roland before, never comfortable in his presence, even on those missions they had shared. Would Roland feel how things had changed between them, or would they still be strained and awkward? Out of habit, his entrance to their underground bunkhouse was silent. He stopped short.

Roland was lying on his bed with his eyes closed, and Cuthbert was lying with him. Both were mostly dressed, Cuthbert as buttoned up and dandyish as he had been the day before when he had gotten on his knees in the Library, Roland with his pants down just enough to free his cock. To fit next to Roland on the mattress, Cuthbert had his back against the wall and his front flush against Roland’s left side. Cuthbert’s left hand extended out above his head and curled around to toy with Roland’s hair, and his right was stroking Roland’s cock. His lips were buried in his neck.

Jamie would have turned and fled, but, in his surprise, he stumbled on the final step and crashed gracelessly into the room.

Cuthbert laughed.

Roland’s eyes snapped open. He shoved Cuthbert’s hand away, did up his jeans, and scrambled to his feet. His clothes were stained with dust and sweat, his hair was mussed from his hat and from Cuthbert’s wandering hand, and he wore an expression of utter mortification on his face. Nevertheless, his natural authority, which Jamie had always seen and felt, seemed amplified, more palpable than ever.

“I cry your pardon,” Jamie stammered. “I will take my leave.” He started to turn towards the stairs.

Roland lunged and caught his arm. “You . . .”

He was interrupted.

“Jamie is not going to blab on us, Ro.” Cuthbert had taken advantage of Roland’s departure and was now lounging comfortably on his bed, no longer jammed up tight against the wall. He leaned his feet against the corner post that supported the upper bunk (his own) to keep his boots off the mattress.

Roland turned his head to look at him. His grip did not ease up on Jamie’s arm.

“Jamie is one of us, now,” Cuthbert said. “Why don’t you tell Roland what you came to tell? ‘Twill give him much more pleasure than my hand.”

Roland looked back at Jamie. He was blushing furiously. He released his grip on Jamie’s arm.

“Or,” Cuthbert suggested, “you could come back over here and discuss the Dark Tower later.”

At the mention of the Tower, Roland’s blue eyes almost glowed. 

“Or I could finish you while you discuss,” Cuthbert offered cheekily.

“Will you desist!?” Roland snapped.

Cuthbert shrugged. 

“Jamie, my friend will talk in riddles. Speak.”

“Our friend,” Jamie corrected.

Cuthbert grinned, and Roland raised his eyebrows. 

“We have agreed to friendship,” Jamie explained, “and now I feel . . . compulsions. In the Library . . .”

“He has been hypothesizing the location of the Tower,” Cuthbert interrupted. “Quite unasked for, I should say. He will make my efforts look poor by comparison. You have that slate?” 

“Yes.” Jamie pulled the slate with the arcs from his purse. Even in daytime, it was so dim in the bunkhouse it would be difficult to read the lines.

“Set it on your bunk.”

From there, the light from the small window caught upon the chalk. 

“I do not understand these circles,” Roland said.

Cuthbert came up close behind him, pressed against his back. “These are maps of In-World and Mid-World, and these, potential placements of the beams. Jamie?”

Jamie stood next to Roland and began to explain his ideas. He kept his eyes glued to Roland’s face, but he could hear the telltale sounds as Cuthbert pulled Roland back out of his pants and began to stroke him once again. After a moment, he ducked out of Jamie’s line of sight, and Jamie heard the bunk creak as Cuthbert sat down on Alain’s bed. He heard the wet of Roland’s cock sliding inside his mouth.

“It is all very uncertain,” Jamie finished.

“Alain has not seen, yet,” Cuthbert put in. Jamie looked down to see him holding Roland’s cock, which glistened with saliva. Eyes locked on Jamie, he lowered his mouth to it again.

“Go and show him,” Roland ordered. His voice was a little strained.

Jamie could guess nothing of Alain’s location save that he had known better than to come down here so soon after his dinh’s return. If they were really bound by ka, however, he would find him. He nodded curtly and retreated up the stairs.

Alain was waiting in the sunny courtyard. It was strange that it should be so bright outside.

“Let us go back to the Library,” Alain suggested. “If we are lucky we will find another picture.”

Jamie trailed after him. When he was certain nobody could overhear, he said, softly, “Cuthbert is very . . . physical in his friendship.”

Alain laughed his dark laugh. “Oh yes. You got an eyeful, did you?”

Jamie nodded. He wondered whether they would finish just like that or whether there would be . . . fucking. Each time he thought that word, he could hear Cuthbert’s question floating in the dark.

“Roland would never go that far,” Alain assured him. “To him, it is a favor between friends. To Cuthbert, also. He likes to make Roland feel good.”

They entered the castle. In the stone stairwell of the Library Tower, every unrestrained movement echoed. 

Jamie lowered his voice to a whisper. “It has nothing to do with surrender?”

Alain stopped on the stairs. He was smiling, but it was a knowing smile and not particularly nice. “The opposite, in many ways. To tempt his dinh into an impropriety . . .” he did not finish.

“It gives him back a measure of control.”

Alain’s smile became friendlier, somehow. “Cuthbert Allgood never did take well to taking orders. Were his dinh any man but Roland, he might not be here at all.”

Whether Alain implied he would be dead or would have got himself sent West Jamie could not tell. He wondered whether Alain knew this for a fact, or whether he was making guesses based on Cuthbert’s character. He wondered how and why his surrender to Alain was different and longed to walk in on the two of them alone the way he had Roland and Cuthbert just this afternoon. Was there a physical component to it, or did Alain fuck his mind alone?


	4. Chapter 4

Jamie got his wish the next time Roland was away. Roland was away often, Jamie knew, but it was only recently he had begun to realize how much it rankled Cuthbert not to be forever at his side. Before long, he gathered that the ‘favors between friends’ that they exchanged were rare, most common after a long absence or when Cuthbert became frustrated with Roland for distancing himself, emotionally, from his ka-tet. The physicality of his friendship was Cuthbert’s last resort for drawing Roland close to him, and, while Roland was around, that physicality seemed to belong to him, alone.

As soon as he was gone, however, something shifted. Jamie had lunched alone and spent an hour practicing with his bow when he felt suddenly compelled to return to the barracks. Maybe Cuthbert was there, moping. Maybe he would kiss him like he did the last time Roland was away.

Cuthbert was in the barracks, but he was not alone. He was lying down on Alain’s bunk, and Alain was seated at his feet, holding one of his hands. Cuthbert stared up at the bottom of Jamie’s bunk with wide, dark eyes, and he did not look towards Jamie when he entered. Neither did Alain, but Jamie guessed it was not ka but Alain himself who had summoned him this time, so there was no need to mince words.

“What is wrong with him?”

Now, Alain did glance in his direction. “You were the one who was curious.”

Jamie remembered what he had wondered. He also remembered the picture in the ancient book.

“I am in every part of him,” Alain said. “I have taken his mind. This practice makes it easier when we are far away. Shall I give a little back so he can speak with you?”

Cuthbert blinked and then kept blinking as if he had something in his eyes.

“Stop blinking so much,” Alain reprimanded. “Jamie is here to see you.”

“Hello, Jamie,” Cuthbert slurred after a beat. He did not look in his direction. He gave a strangled, high pitched giggle. “Jamie, have you ever been fucked?”

“Gods,” Jamie swore under his breath. “Have you? Other than this?”

That same strange pause and then, “This is much more intense.” His words were no longer slurred.

“He is not entirely connected to his body,” Alain informed him. 

He let go of Cuthbert’s hand and ran his fingers over his face and down his chest, across his groin, down his long leg. Except for his feet, which were bare, Cuthbert was dressed as he usually was in town: his showy waistcoat fully buttoned, his open jacket pulled down past the cuffs of his starched shirt. Much belatedly, his head cocked just a little bit.

“You touched me with your hand,” he said.

“Jamie was curious if there was a physical component,” Alain informed him.

Pause.

“There can be,” Cuthbert said. “It is not necessary. This is more intense.”

“For both of you?” Jamie looked at Alain.

Alain smiled that smile that gave Jamie shivers. “This is the key element.”

“Alain is something else,” Cuthbert put in. Jamie remembered that, too. He meant he was something other than human. The words came soon enough after Alain’s that he suspected they were not meant to add to Alain’s statement but to replace it.

Alain was leaning over Cuthbert now. “Jamie fantasized about the picture of the monster in the book. He fantasized about us fucking you together.”

Jamie shook his head.

“If it pleases you,” said Cuthbert.

“It does not please me!” Jamie was no longer aroused by the idea. “I don’t like . . .” he waved his hand at Cuthbert’s unnaturally still body.

“No? He is very relaxed.” Alain began to rub his palm on Cuthbert’s chest, then to carry the movements lower and lower.

“I am able to consent,” Cuthbert said after his pause.

“But not to participate,” Jamie reminded him.

Alain’s hand was now at Cuthbert’s groin. He rubbed there for a little while before Jamie could see an erection beginning to form.

Cuthbert laughed like he was under water. “I’ll participate.”

Alain kissed him. To Jamie’s relief, it was a gentle kiss. He saw Alain’s tongue come out a few times to beg entrance into Cuthbert’s passive mouth, but he did not push inside without Cuthbert’s participation. 

At length, to Jamie’s shock, Cuthbert did participate. More than simply opening his mouth, he kissed back passionately, and his previously limp hand came up to tangle in Alain’s hair. They kissed a moment longer, and then Alain pulled away. Cuthbert eased his grip in his hair, and his hand slid down his face and rested, limp again, on his own chest. He gasped several times in rapid succession and then licked his lips.

“Tell Jamie how it works,” Alain prompted.

Pause.

“The sensations pile up,” Cuthbert said. He sounded somewhat breathless.

Alain looked over his shoulder at Jamie. “The lag is not consistent,” he explained. “Repeat the stimulus . . .” He began stroking the back of Cuthbert’s hand. 

Suddenly, Cuthbert turned his hand over and grasped Alain’s, winding their fingers together. “And I catch up,” he said. He had a distant smile on his face.

“And all the lagged sensations come crashing down on you together,” Jamie finished.

Pause.

“‘Tis so. What say you?”

“I am . . . intrigued,” he admitted.

Alain started in on Cuthbert’s buttons.

After his pause, Cuthbert said, “Good man.” He began to help Alain.

“We have done this before, but not often,” Alain confided as he opened Cuthbert’s waistcoat and started unbuttoning his shirt. Cuthbert’s hands undid his trousers and then rested limply at his sides.

“He said the mental intrusion was more intense.”

Alain pulled Cuthbert’s shirt open and licked around his nipple. 

After a moment, Cuthbert arched his back. “I can hear you, Jamie,” he reprimanded teasingly. “It is more intense, but that feeling I cannot share. This, I can share with you.”

“I failed the test,” Jamie reminded him. “This degree of surrender, I am uncomfortable even looking at it.”

“Cuthbert is special,” Alain said. “Come help me get his clothes off.”

Jamie edged over to the head of the bed and sat on the corner.

“Lift him up,” prompted Alain. “If we are fast enough, he won’t catch up until we have him bare.”

Jamie moved slowly. He propped Cuthbert’s torso up against him and began to peel off his jacket. He felt the moment Cuthbert’s muscles tensed to help support his weight.

“How chivalrous,” Cuthbert laughed. “You too, Alain, to warn me. Do not worry, Jamie. Did you not surmise how much I liked his alien presence in my head? There was no test; I only wanted to see how you would react. You would have pleased me either way, so long as you did not reject me. I did not think that very likely, not the way you watched and listened to me in the night. Did I not say that it was for myself? I wanted kisses. Kiss me now.”

Jamie tossed the last of Cuthbert’s garments on the floor and leaned his head back so he could bend down and kiss him on the lips. Even though he had requested the kiss, Cuthbert's reaction was as delayed as usual, and Jamie had to wait a moment for his warm lips to respond. Then, suddenly, the kiss was just as hungry as the one they had shared on the top bunk and the others, later, in the Library. Both of Cuthbert’s hands were tangled up in Jamie’s hair. They moaned into each other’s mouths.

Finally, Cuthbert said against his lips, “Is one of you not going to fuck me properly?”

Jamie looked up. The rest of Cuthbert’s clothes were gone, and Alain had a hand buried deep between his legs.

“Why, both of us are, Bert. Remember Jamie’s fantasy.”

Pause.

“I did not see it, but I saw the picture. Stand me up.”

“The larger muscles are slower on the uptake,” Alain said.

He and Jamie twisted Cuthbert around so that his feet were on the floor, then propped him up between them. He was completely limp.

“Go sit on the edge of your bunk,” Alain advised. He shouldered all of Cuthbert’s weight.

Curious, Jamie obeyed. He climbed the ladder and sat on the edge, letting his legs dangle down. Alain hefted Cuthbert’s torso towards him, and he caught his arms and brought his drooping head to rest upon his thigh. The position was more stable than Jamie expected.

“Because his legs are working now,” Alain told him.

“I feel like I am floating,” Cuthbert murmured, “surrounded by wings.”

Alain undid his fly. He slicked his hard prick quickly, adjusted Cuthbert’s hips, and thrust up into him. 

It was uncanny how Cuthbert did not react at first. Alain had thrust up nearly seven times before he made a movement or a sound: he choked wetly into Jamie’s thigh.

“Are you alright?” asked Jamie.

Pause.

“Oh yes. Undo your fly. I cannot find my hands.” He moaned and then began to gasp more rapidly than Alain’s thrusts and then in time with them.

“Gods,” Jamie cursed again. He undid his buttons and, with a nod from Alain, touched the tip of his own cock to Cuthbert’s lips. 

After a moment, Cuthbert’s tongue came out and licked it, then he opened up his mouth to take it in.

“You probably can’t thrust much sitting like that,” Alain observed, “but this is near to correct, is it not?”

In the illustration, the woman had been upright, supported by a mass of tentacles, one of which seemed to press into her cunt, another of which circled her neck and went into her mouth. Jamie took hold of Cuthbert’s two hands and wrapped them around the back of his own neck, touching them together.

“Here are your hands,” he said. 

After a moment, Cuthbert clasped his hands together, and the weight of his upper body hung on Jamie’s neck. Jamie scooted slightly downward and, very gently, took hold of Cuthbert’s neck with his left hand. He clutched the bedframe with his right, braced his boot against the ladder, and began a careful, shallow thrust.

“Well done. I’m going to come looking at that. You should hold off.”

Jamie waited for Alain to slam up into Cuthbert one more time and stiffen. Then he eased Cuthbert off his cock and took a deep breath to delay his orgasm. Cuthbert shook in what might have been pleasure, and Jamie slid down off his bunk to hold him in a full embrace.

“Your turn,” Alain prompted.

“On the bed,” Cuthbert suggested after his delay.

They eased him down again, and Alain grabbed an extra pillow to prop under his hips.

“This is what we have done before,” he said. “He is very relaxed. Go as hard as you want.”

“I would rather hear Cuthbert say it.”

Pause.

“I liked it when you pushed me under you,” was what Cuthbert said.

Jamie took off his clothes. As strange as the situation was, as much as he wanted to be the one doing the fucking, he wanted them to feel like equals. His morbid fascination had been satisfied. He knelt at the foot of the bed, borrowed Alain’s oil, and rubbed it all over his cock.

“Ready?”

Pause.

“As hard as you want,” Cuthbert said.

Cautiously, Jamie pushed inside the tight, hot passage. It was stretched already and slick with Alain’s come and just as relaxed as he had said in spite of how tight it still was. After the fellatio, he was not going to last long. 

He leaned forward for an awkward kiss too brief for Cuthbert to return, then took hold of his hips and fucked him, carefully at first, then hard. He felt the moment Cuthbert’s mind caught up with the sensation. No longer limp, he canted his hips a little differently and moaned, then licked his lips where Jamie had kissed him. 

Alain stepped up close to the bed and laid his palm on Cuthbert’s forehead for a moment. Then, he backed away and out of sight.

Cuthbert’s dark eyes snapped to Jamie’s. He bucked his hips to meet his rhythm and pulled him down into a hot, demanding kiss. One leg folded around his waist.

“As hard as you want,” he said, looking Jamie in the eye.

“You have returned.”

“I was not ever gone. Make me come on your cock, Jamie DeCurry.”

“Touch yourself.”

Jamie felt his hand slide in between them and take hold of his own cock. He stroked it for a moment and then stopped, using both hands to brace against the wall. After another two of Jamie’s thrusts, he came, spurting across his belly. The muscles inside his body tightened, and Jamie came, too.

Pulling out carefully, he mimicked Cuthbert’s pose the time that he had found him here with Roland: he slid in between Cuthbert’s right side and the wall with one arm up over his head and the other across his lanky body, more tense, suddenly, than it had been through the entire sexual encounter. 

Alain was nowhere to be seen; they were alone.

“You did enjoy yourself, I hope,” Cuthbert murmured. His dark irises rolled in Jamie’s direction, but his nose still pointed at the bottom of the upper bunk. In profile, his smile seemed cautious.

“It does frighten me a little, what can please you - the things you are willing to allow.”

Cuthbert nodded. “Yes.” His lips pressed tight together.

“That you would trust me with this . . . Yes, I did enjoy myself, but I enjoyed the last part most. By far.”

A wide smile slowly lit up Cuthbert’s face. He closed his eyes and relaxed against Jamie’s body - head to palm and calf to calf and shoulder to chest and hip to groin. Suddenly, Jamie’s stiff arm fit comfortably across the other young man’s chest and shoulder. In the dimly lit bunkhouse, Cuthbert’s long eyelashes looked like a black shadow on his cheek.

“Do you know, Jamie De Curry? I'm an easy man to please, but it may be I like this best of all.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this story months ago. At the time, I had a bunch of ideas floating around in my head: I wanted to write a Jamie-centric story about his integration into Roland's first ka-tet. I wanted to write a story where Alain was too much of a foreign entity for Bert to fall in love with him. I wanted to write a story where Cuthbert was sexually forward and not such a magnet for Bad Things. I did not intend to pack all of these ideas into a single story, and I certainly did not intend to write _this_. Then, once it was written, I never intended to publish it.
> 
> Oops?
> 
> Then again, "No Tentacles" _was_ an existing tag . . .


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